


Cursed people of a cursed land

by lulahbelle



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Canon, Fight Sex, Fighting, M/M, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulahbelle/pseuds/lulahbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus gets paranoid about Esca's loyalty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed people of a cursed land

**Author's Note:**

> -Set after they've begun the journey North and gotten past Hadrian's Wall.  
> -I have been sitting on this awhile unsure of it - everytime I read what I've written its quality changes, I think it's ok.

Like all Romans Marcus has heard that the lands beyond the wall are cursed. Now he is here he believes it. It is a perpetually dark place. The weather a constant storm, soaking and whipping them alternately. The sun itself hanging for fewer hours in the sky the deeper in that they travel.

Esca is different here too. His face, a mask of sullen resentment, bears none of the inadvertent deference it had around the Villa. Here he openly radiates hostility. Whenever Marcus looks at him his heart thuds hard, an echo of fear.

Marcus closely moniters Esca's conversations with the Britons they meet. He does not know much of the Briton language but enough to pick out when Esca is asking about the Eagle and the Roman legion, and when he is just conversing idly about hunting, the possibility of Rogue warriors and other dangerous tribesmen in the area, or just other things that Marcus cannot understand at all.

Enough times the large share of long conversations are things other than what Marcus is interested in, or understands for him to be concerned.

He tries for reason. No doubt Esca is negotiating. Seeking to wheedle small amounts of information from these people with much companionable talk of many other things, but Marcus is enough afraid that he might be planning his downfall with, the cursed people of this cursed land, instead, that he begins to think he should stop his slave's mouth.

*  
"Esca next time when you speak to these people, ask them directly what they have seen and heard of the Eagle, do not speak with them of tribes and ways, it only gives them the opportunity to malinger."

Esca loads his horse with increased fury, face tensing enough that Marcus knows he isn't being ignored, but also enough for him to see that he doesn't intend to do as he is told.

"Esca, you will do this," Marcus says.

Pushed Esca says sullen, "Your way is not the only way to do things."

"With respect Esca you will do as I say."

"You know I know this land and her people far better than you, I was given to understand that that is why I was brought here."

Esca's mouth is held tense, the words barely escaping.

Marcus seizes in righteous fury at his slave's presumption, "Esca I am your master, if I have granted your opinions attention in the past, then it was a loan that I can take back as I see fit. I was not offering you command of me."

"Why, would you command yourself in these lands any better than your father did?" Esca says back, equally angry.

"How dare you!"

Wise to the look in his eye, Esca turns away from Marcus but this avoidance of fight ends when Marcus lays a dominating grip on his tunic.

Esca resists, pulling out of his grasp, "You have no idea where you are do you? How meaningless your pride about yourself is. It will get your throat slit, nothing more."

Marcus refuses to show fear and Esca stares at him.

"Let me go."

Marcus draws on his clothes rougher instead, holding him firm and still beneath his scrutiny.

"You will let me go," Esca says in a growl.

"You will not tell me what to do," he receives back.

*  
Esca pants, air clogging in his lungs, trapped behind the frenetic movement of his too fast heart. Anger extends a spark through the parts of his body that he could use to attack. He could smash a punch to his face he thinks, he wants to.

"You will listen to me Esca!" Marcus says, close, his hot breath coasting across Esca's cheek, warming it far more than expected.

Ever aware that he has promised himself to this man in his father's name Esca stares at him, refusing, but unable to speak lest this unleash his fury for good and for all.

"You will obey me or you will not be free," He says.

"Then we shall be locked together like this until eternity," Esca says, teeth ground together.

At that Marcus releases him, pushing him away so hard that he almost flings him down.

As Marcus moves away Esca's eyes follow him, with all his hatred of Rome and everything done to him by her blazing from every part.

"Don't you dare even look to me!" Marcus spits at him.

Esca glowers still, trying to calm himself into acceptance of the many unfair things he cannot change. To realise that if he does not he will be killed, or worse than this, that he will have to kill, murder in cold blood, betraying the memory of the loved ones taken from him.

But to be so mistreated, for helping the man, when he could so easily have been dishonourable and gotten him killed. The depths of this injustice drowns all attempts at calmer mood.

He breathes hard and a burning aura of heat rises from his stomach out over his arms, tensing them. He flies at Marcus, launching in some ill defined charge, not caring if he is pummelled for his pains. The still certainty of fury surging through his muscles is satisfying, all the more when he makes exquisite contact with Marcus' tunic and, uses it to pull him near, intending to perhaps push him down in return. Marcus blocks this move easily and shoves Esca over until he falls on the ground. Then he throws himself down too almost ontop of him, hands immediately, heavy on his arms, so strong that they hold him still, passive, "You are my slave, you will submit!"

The words enrage Esca. He has wasted decency on this man and it disgusts him. Since he cannot operate from his shoulders, he raises his pelvis to push up and when he does he realises with shock that he can feel Marcus' cock pressing, semi hard against him.

Marcus' errant erection, the possibility of his desire, his want, creates a strange, detached charge of electricity in the pit of Esca's stomach, borne of other times, before. Friendly days of hunting. When he had seen the great centurion's perfect, masculine, warrior fit, body lain out before him at repose in the sun and felt a shamed desire to own it that made his cock ache in his braccae.

Aware of his own body Marcus pushes Esca's hips down with one hand, then punches him hard in the face with the other. Jarred by his own violence, he stumbles up, backing away from his felled body.

Esca clambers to his feet, dizzy, and swipes a hand at his nose, inadvertently pushing a warm spray of blood up onto his cheek.

Curious, sniffing in shock, he looks at Marcus, wanting to bite and stamp on him until he is indistinguishable from the mulch beneath their feet.

He stalks towards him meaning him this end, then realises he is coming back to him.

"Esca, Esca, I should not have done that," Marcus whispers, his tone pricked with upset at what he has done. He reaches out a hand out for him.

He is close enough for Esca to do him some damage. Esca finds that his heart is caught in a flutter of trepidation and regret at that thought rather than glee at punishing him.

It shakes him and he surges forward agressively.

When Marcus touches a clumsy, mollifying hand to his face, straying his thumb near his mouth Esca bites it.

His soft flesh compacts satisfyingly beneath his teeth, pressed together so hard that he feels pain at the force radiating through his own face.

Marcus whines, a delicious sound, then hits his fist into the side of Esca's face.

The pain and Marcus' raw willingness to inflict it is too intense for Esca to bear. His head lights up in shocking, terrifying ways. There are the traces of odd, unsteady, heat and admiration inside him.

He releases Marcus' thumb. His cheek pounds. He feels swoony, removed from his pain, done, silent, until Marcus whispers harsh, shocked, holding his bitten hand.

"Esca you are not an animal."

"What would you know of who I am." Esca says, shuddering with breath.

"You are finer than this."

Swiping blood from his nose with his hand to hold in front of Marcus' eyes, Esca says, "I may be, but you are not,"

Marcus sighs, a large outward breath.

"Next time when we are beset by enemies watch yourself because I shall do as you wish and I will let you die."

"Esca," Marcus says reaching his wounded hand towards him which does not bleed but looks violently red all the same.

"Don't touch me! You saw what happened last time. Don't do it!"

Marcus comes all the same. Esca swings out connecting with his jaw, then because Marcus still moves on toward him he does so again. It isn't full force because somehow Esca can't summon that against him. His hands move slow toward gripping Esca once more.

"You will wake and find me gone if you do not leave me be now," Esca shouts.

"Esca I'm sorry. I was afraid of your betrayal, but I am more afraid to be here without you, you are the only friend I have."

Esca is reminded of when he did consider Marcus a friend, of when he wanted him. Of when his face burned with a flush and his prick jerked just to think of what he would do with him naked and begging.

"What kind of pathetic man thinks he has befriended a slave."

Marcus looks furious, but though he is humiliated he keeps on trying to reach him.

Behind all the distrust in his eyes, the fury, there is a desperate, raw dependence.

Esca remembers his own instinctive support and along with that memory, his once ago lust zips pure through his body. It overwhelms his head. More present and vital to him than any defense.

When Marcus seeks to bring his body in closer he finds he has let him.

His master is rigid.

Esca stares at it, then his eyes, no less hard. The fear there. The surrender. His cock stiffens.

He sinks his hand down to feel where Marcus is excited. Skims a palm over it, head jittery and airy with aroused confusion.

"You're excited? By hitting me down?" He snarls, "Which of us is the animal?"

Marcus grabs his face and leans to kiss him, to stop his words. To conceal his peculiar drives for the shame of them.

Esca reacts with fury, jerking his head away, "No! You will not touch mouths with me like I am some whore you are giving affection to."

He rubs Marcus' cock again roughly, gratified at his helpless groan. Then, ruthless in his power, he squeezes his phallus.

"If it is something I win that is one thing but I won't submit to you."

Marcus' face becomes fiercesome and the continuing fire of his mood rises heat off his skin. Aware that Esca is aroused by seeing him break, Marcus puts his hand on Esca's cock.

Esca stares at what Marcus has done disgusted. Marcus looks down sheepish, palm still pressed there, his whole body stiff and shuddering with the strength of his excitement.

Esca smiles. His master will submit.

Esca undoes Marcus' braccae and when he has his cock in his fist, strokes at it slow, teasing, lingering.

Despite himself Esca finds that with the tugging he does and receives, the scent of Marcus, the weight and handsomeness of his stare flagrantly lashing down his face and his body, to his full cock in rageful wantonness, that he burns to lean in to kiss him.

He does not. He will not. Would not allow that disgusting, soft practice to invade their bout.

As if sensing his thoughts Marcus pants, raggedly again, "Kiss me."

When Esca resists, Marcus grabs him by the hair and drags his mouth onto his.

Esca pulls off, panting harshly and stares at Marcus, his face smeared red from contact with his and spits at him, "Don't do it again."

Marcus settles for grasping, the hand going at his erection, "Esca pull harder."

The abruptness to his demand rankles Esca who corrects him, "Please?"

"Please Esca."

He squeezes him so hard at that. He is so warm in his hand. So thick and satisfying. Esca's whole body pangs with the out of body strangeness of this arousal.

Marcus snorts and pants like a horse.

"Hurry and come," Esca says to him stern,

Marcus just makes more open pitiful noise, laid out by his pleasure.

"Have this be over." Esca begs him, his own voice straining weakly against his own emotion as he rubs faster.

"Fuck, Esca," Marcus breathes at him, shuddering.

His surrender, makes Esca feel blessed. It is some of the ultimate power he had learnt to enjoy when tending to his wounds, the feeling that he alone can save suffering. Combined with the feel of Marcus' own firm fingertips now squeezing the sensitive flesh of his swollen cockhead, his orgasm is there waiting, needing to be freed, but he will not come before Marcus does.

"Come, come, don't lengthen it." He growls at Marcus desperate, changing his strokes to chime with the ragged whining pant of his breath, trying to make him come.

When he does it is with a satisfyingly small whine.

When spent Marcus immediately begins to stroke Esca with more vigour.

With all the distrust and hatred they have stirred between them It feels like torture to wait on him to unleash the joy that beckons but he does, somehow.

By the time he is hot enough to spill over Marcus' pumping hand his attitude has become strangely loving.

They cling to one another for a few moments, breathing hard in the fuzzy afterglow of satisfaction before breaking apart and avoiding one another's eyes.

*

Esca reties his braccae and goes back to his horse and Marcus goes back to silence, his paranoia burning stronger than before.


End file.
